Then another thought came and he spoke of the twelve hundred
dollars Joe had lost in the stock, of the plant-setting machine company.
"He lost his money and you fellows are going to get licked in this fight,"
he declared. "You're all wrong, you fellows, when you talk about unions or
joining the socialist party. What counts is what a man can do for himself.
Character counts. Yes, sir, character makes a man what he is."
Jim pounded on his chest and glared about him.
"Look at me," he said. "I was a drunkard and down and out when I came to
this town; a drunkard, that's what I was and that's what I am. I came here
to this shop to work, and now, if you want to know, ask any one in town who
runs this place. The socialist says money is power. Well, there's a man
inside here who has the money, but you bet I've got the power."
Slapping his knees with his hands Jim laughed heartily. A week before, a
traveling man had come to the shop to sell machine-made harness. Joe had
ordered the man out and Jim had called him back. He had placed an order for
eighteen sets of the harness and had made Joe sign the order. The harness
had arrived that afternoon and was now hung in the shop. "It's hanging in
the shop now," Jim cried. "Go see for yourself."
Triumphantly Jim walked up and down before the men on the sidewalk, and
his voice rang through the shop where Joe sat on his harness-maker's horse
under a swinging lamp hard at work.
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